


Liar, Liar

by fojee



Category: Japanese Drama, Kurosagi - All Media Types, Nobuta wo Produce
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Japanese Character(s), Japanese Drama - Freeform, M/M, Nothing explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:44:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fojee/pseuds/fojee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two universes collide: a Nobuta wo Produce/Kurosagi crossover, where two emotionally unavailable guys come face to face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Collisions

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP that I started years ago, so more chapters to come, but I stalled a bit towards the end. I just recently got back into writing this, so hopefully I'll be able to finish it soon. Post-series for Nobuta wo Produce, mid-series for Kurosagi, but I won't touch on the cases he works on.

Kiritani Shuji was a very good liar. Even after Nobuta and Akira had taught him about real friendship, lies still came easily to his lips; to teachers, lovers and friends he would speak them, his eyes betraying nothing. And yet he still was not prepared to meet face to face the man called Kurosaki.

Shuji was walking on a street in Tokyo one afternoon. He was looking for a cheap place to rent; he couldn’t afford much, because he regularly sent money to his dad and to Koji, and because his new job at a small talent agency didn’t pay much. That was when he caught a glimpse of someone at the edge of his eye, and instinctively called out, “Akira!” 

But the man didn’t notice. He jogged ahead to catch the man’s arm. Eyes met his, and he stumbled away. Kusano Akira’s face stared back but the cold gaze, the tight lips, and the way he held himself still… all belonged to a stranger.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” Shuji said, bowing slightly. “But you resemble a friend of mine. Are you related to the Kusanos, by any chance?” 

The stranger tilted his head, considering. “No,” he finally answered shortly, before turning away.

Shuji would have let him go. He would have chalked it up to the strangeness of the universe; he had had enough experience with shared dreams and living spirits to calmly accept the existence of Akira’s doppelganger. But as he followed the figure walk away and up a flight of stairs, he caught sight of the sign in front of a row of mailboxes: Room for Rent.

He scratched his head, before muttering, “What the hell?” He followed the stranger up to the apartments. “Excuse me, but do you know how I can contact the landlord of this place?”

The man turned around again and Shuji almost lost his nerve. How weird would it be to live near someone so familiar and yet so different?

“I’m the landlord,” the guy said. “I’m Kurosaki.”

Shuji took the offered hand. “Kiritani Shuji,” he introduced himself. “If it won’t be a bother, could you show me the apartment, please?” 

Kurosaki shrugged. In quick, efficient movements, he gave Shuji a tour. The available room was right in the middle of a line of apartments. It was a bit cramped, but Shuji found it cozy. They talked about the rent while sitting over a low wooden table, and before dusk, he had signed a lease. 

“Yoroshiku onegaishimasu,” he said with another bow. “I’ll move in by next weekend.”

Kurosaki waved him away, and he watched his new landlord enter the apartment at the other end, pausing to scoop a black cat in his arms.

On the walk back to his friend’s place—he had met Jin while job-hunting and was staying there at the moment—Shuji pulled out his mobile phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Shuuuji!” A bubbly voice greeted him from the other end. Shuji found himself relaxing, as if he was afraid Akira had disappeared with this Kurosaki-guy’s appearance. 

“Hey, Akira! How’s the job going?” They chatted all the way home, Akira confessing his bloopers at the office that day. He had refused to take his father’s place at the company, but ended up working there anyway, as assistant director in the distribution department. He was based in an office in Ibaraki, near the Hitachinaka Port. 

At first he had seemed to hate it—the late nights and busy weekends often meant they could not meet up as often as they wished—but Shuji could hear the passion in Akira’s voice. Shuji and Nobuta had spent a month worrying about him, but it seemed they didn’t need to. Although Akira had never been the brightest crayon in the box, he had good instincts. And his honesty and easy-going nature made him likeable at work—though being the head honcho’s son didn’t hurt. 

Nobuta was doing well, too. She had gone to university to study film-making, and was part-timing at a small studio at the moment. They didn’t talk much, but she usually sent him a video clip once a month. They were wonderful little pieces that always made him smile, containing messages from old friends she had kept in touch with, interviews with strangers, acts of kindness caught on camera, or animations of creatures that were like inside jokes—talking taiyaki, three little pigs each with three legs, or her old doll walking daintily across the screen. It lightened his heart. 

The last time they all saw each other, he and Akira had prepared a Nobuta Film Festival banner, which they hung over an empty lot. They set out three lawn chairs, and watched all her movies on a large projector screen, which Akira generously funded. Some people around the neighborhood joined in, and by the last credits, it had turned into a real festival.

Indulging in nostalgia gave him good dreams that night, although in it he wondered why he was suddenly surrounded by mirrors, talking to his friends as their images multiplied again and again, while he remained singular and alone.

\---

Kurosaki was busy with a job. He always was these days. Yoshikawa Tsurara had disturbed his life, like a windblown leaf that had destroyed the carefully arranged sand in a garden. And the only way to get back his calm was to work; swindling swindlers required his full attention. He liked it that way.

His current target was a shirosagi who defrauded old ladies of their retirement money through fake contests. It was an easy job; normally he wouldn’t have even glanced at it. But Katsuragi had told him the big fish were lying low at the moment. It felt like the lull before a quake hits. 

He had forgotten about his new tenant until Kiritani Shuji showed up the following weekend, lugging two suitcases and three boxes from the taxi parked on the street. Shuji tottered uncertainly up the steps just as he was leaving, and instinct made him grab the other end of the suitcase, balancing it as they walked towards the empty apartment. 

“Thanks,” Shuji said with an easy smile. Kurosaki nodded. He immediately distrusted the other man’s looks and friendliness, particularly with the strange conversation they had upon meeting. Was there really someone named Kusano who looked like him? Or was it a ploy of some sort? He toyed with the idea that Katsuragi had sent him over—another test, another game. It was not helped by the contents of one box, which Shuji had started to unpack.

Kurosaki raised an eyebrow at the women’s clothes revealed. He held up one glittering slinky dress and his mouth twitched. Shuji flushed under his gaze. “It’s not what you think. They’re not mine; they’re for work. I’m supposed to do alterations and have them dry-cleaned.”

“You sew?” Kurosaki asked. His tone was light and his stance open. 

Shuji ducked his head. “I’m sort of a gopher at a talent agency, so a lot of the menial jobs fall to me.” 

“You don’t look old enough to be working already,” he commented.

“I’m twenty,” Shuji defended with a sheepish smile. “I went straight into it after high school. What about you? You look too young to be anybody’s landlord.”

Kurosaki immediately regretted his questions, as he hated them being volleyed back in his face. “Twenty-one,” he answered briefly, straightening up. “I have to go. I’ll leave you to get settled.”

Shuji watched him walk away with a pensive look, mentally ticking off another thing this Kurosaki did not have in common with Akira. 

\---

The new apartment was around fifteen minutes to the agency where he worked, so Shuji really lucked out. The walls were a bit thinner than he’d like, but fortunately there were no couples on either side of him, so aside from the occasional drunken singing, there were no embarrassing sounds carried in the night air. 

Of his mysterious landlord, he saw little. He worked long hours at the agency, and was kept running around doing errands all over Tokyo. And then one evening, he came home dead tired and almost tripped over someone sitting on the stairs. 

“Gomen-ne,” he said immediately, backing down a few steps. The girl looked up and his eyes widened. “Nobuta?”

Tsurara hastily wiped her eyes. “Ah, sorry. You must be the new tenant. I am Yoshikawa Tsurara.” She offered her hand. “I live next door.” And she tilted her head towards the apartment beside Kurosaki’s.

Shuji shook her hand, choking down the hysterical laughter that threatened to overtake him. “Yoshikawa-san?” He clarified, though from the open expression on her face, and the cheap but stylish clothes she was wearing, there was no way she was the same person as Kotani Nobuko.

“Hai,” Tsurara answered, puzzled at the other boy’s shell-shocked expression. “Just call me Tsurara. Are you studying at the university, too?”

Shuji shook his head, and barely remembered his manners. “Uh, I am Kiritani Shuji. I’m working at a talent agency nearby,” he said. 

Tsurara’s face wrinkled at his words. Talent agency? She wondered if he had anything to do with Kurosaki’s profession. After all, he’d need occasional actors to deceive people in his operations, didn’t he? 

Shuji watched her in fascination. She had a beautiful smile, much better than anything Nobuta could produce, and her eyes were particularly expressive. He wondered if he was somehow meeting the future person Nobuta could become. But then that would make Kurosaki the person Akira could become, and that was a scary thought. Then he noticed the faint tear tracks down her smooth cheeks.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why were you crying?” He asked carefully, a bit afraid that she’d start weeping all over him.

To his relief, she waved his question away. “Just girl problems, don’t worry about it. Are you settling in okay?” She asked cheerfully, obviously trying to deflect his curiosity. 

They chatted for a few minutes, but in the middle of a funny story in one of her law classes, Tsurara suddenly fell silent. Shuji felt the air change, and he turned to look down at their landlord, dressed in a smart black suit with a red tie, standing at the foot of the stairs and glaring up at them.

Shuji couldn’t stop himself this time. He let out a mixture of a snort and a giggle, which made the two raise their eyebrows at him. 

“I feel like I just fell through the rabbit-hole,” Shuji said, then immediately waved his hand. “Never mind. It’s nothing. Nice to meet you, Tsurara-san. Kurosaki-san.” He smiled at her and bowed down to the older guy, before heading to his place. 

As he was turning in the lock in the key, however, he heard Tsurara speak in a low voice, “How did it go?”

Kurosaki must have said something, but he didn’t hear it.

\---

Aside from Jin, he didn’t tell his friends and family about his change of address. If he asked himself why, Shuji could not come up with an answer. But that month’s Nobuta film arrived at Jin’s place, and his friend dropped by to deliver the package. 

“Yo,” Shuji answered as soon as Jin knocked on his door.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Jin asked with a too-pretty smile, peering at the room behind him. “Since I came all this way just for you, Shuji-kun…” He made whiny noises and held his hands in front of his face as if he were a dog. 

Shuji laughed, pretending to scratch Jin’s ear before dragging him inside. But as he closed the door, he saw Kurosaki watching them. He swore there was envy in the other man’s face, but it disappeared in a blink.

\---

“Shuuuuji!” A familiar voice proclaimed on the phone. “Have you watched it yet?”

Shuji leaned back against the wall, using his left hand to click pause on the remote. “Just about to start. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Akira jealous!”

“Why?” Shuji asked absently, standing up and opening the back window to get some fresh air. He leaned out a little, and noticed his landlord doing the same. It felt weird, talking to Akira on the phone, while looking at the face of his doppelganger a few meters away. It distracted him so he  
missed his friend’s next words. But they finally registered.

“You what?” He asked, a little louder than necessary. He found Kurosaki’s penetrating eyes on him like a laser beam that made his ears heat up. “You’re gonna ask her to marry you?” He said distantly even as he watched Kurosaki’s blank expression, though for some reason, the other man’s eyes seemed a bit teary. “I thought you already gave up on her.”

He looked away, feeling his face turn red at the other man’s blatant examination. “Akira, are you sure about this?”

Akira. Kurosaki thought. Wasn’t that what the younger boy called him the first time they met? The one he supposedly resembled? 

He didn’t want to get involved in his tenants’ lives—Yoshikawa Tsurara was proof enough of that—but he found that he was curious about this guy. He seemed friendly and helpful, introducing himself to the other tenants. But whenever he saw Kurosaki, there would be something in his eyes. And he seemed to be especially fascinated with Tsurara. I’m not jealous, he told himself. But he still eavesdropped shamelessly.

“Just because Mariko’s getting married soon doesn’t mean Nobuta’s ready to,” Shuji seemed to be explaining to the guy on the other end. “She hasn’t even finished school yet. And you’re not even officially going out right now. If you just show up with a ring, she’ll probably run away or something.”

It all seemed so innocent. Like dialogue in some romance drama. Kurosaki was about to turn away when Shuji caught his eye again and Kurosaki saw the misery there. Shuji made some excuses on the phone, looking away from him. “Uh, sorry I was so loud,” the younger boy finally said. “Oyasumi.”

Kurosaki nodded blankly, not bothering to answer.

That night, Shuji watched the video of Mariko’s marriage proposal. It had been awhile since he’d seen her. She’d grown even more beautiful. Her new boyfriend looked cool, too, but proposed to her in the kindergarten where she worked, using the kids to hold up signs and flowers. Mariko blushed at the camera and said yes with tears in her eyes. 

Shuji felt happy for her, but also lonely. Even after trying to be a better person, he had never fallen in love; he had never found someone he could be completely honest to. Not even to Akira and Nobuta.

Lying was just too easy after all.


	2. Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuji moved into one of Kurosaki's apartments, and they each find out a little bit more about the other than either would have wished.

Shuji had this habit of brushing his teeth outdoors every morning. He’d look out over the streets in his t-shirt and jerseys, with his bangs in a ponytail. It steadied him and made him feel ready to face the day. Even after he had moved to Hokkaido his senior year, he had brought the habit with him.

But his back stiffened right after he rinsed his mouth, feeling someone’s eyes on him. It was Kurosaki standing on the hallway, once more appraising him. Shuji removed his ponytail, suddenly conscious of how young he looked. “Ohayou,” he said, smiling falsely to cover his inexplicable nervousness.

Kurosaki walked towards him loose-limbed and somewhat childishly. It somehow reminded him of Akira, and Shuji was caught off-guard.

“Rent’s due the second Monday of every month,” Kurosaki reminded him. 

“Oh, of course. I have it ready,” Shuji said, wiping his mouth. “If you would care to wait…” He opened his door and invited the other man in.

He rummaged through the papers on his desk while Kurosaki leaned against one wall, looking around. It has only been a month and already the apartment felt different. Neatly stacked videos lined one shelf. The bed was neatly made, a sewing basket beside it. 

The dresses he had seen were hung up on a pole against one wall. The sight made Kurosaki smile a little, imagining the other boy in them. Some shirosagi cross-dressed in the course of their swindling of course, but that depended on their looks and acting ability. He knew he’d make a terrible girl. But Kiritani Shuji wouldn’t.

And then just as Shuji found the envelope with the rent money on his desk—the messiest part of the room—Kurosaki saw the picture. His heart began to pound, and he ignored the outstretched hand of the other man in favor of the black frame on top of the desk. Someone wearing his face stared back at him, with an unsmiling Tsurara standing on either side of Shuji, with their hands forming three foxes. They stood against the backdrop of a river. 

It was like being doused by cold water. Kurosaki shivered and found himself uncharacteristically lost for words. Could it have been doctored? But he had never in his life posed like that, or smiled like that, not even before…

“I told you he resembles you,” Shuji said lamely. “And the girl’s name is Nobuta. We were classmates in high school.” He bit his lip. “They’re my best friends.”

“And does he know about me?” Kurosaki demanded. His voice was harsher than usual.

Shuji shook his head. “I-I didn’t tell him. Akira,” he tried to explain tactfully, “can be pretty persistent. If he met you, he’d be convinced you’re his long-lost twin brother and probably try to get his father to adopt you or something.”

Kurosaki looked away, a brief flash of memory of his own father ramming a knife through his shoulder dizzying him a little. “And yet you still chose to stay here.”

Shuji shrugged, laughing self-deprecatingly. “I thought it was fate, you know. Especially when I met _her ___look-a-like,” he said, tapping the face of the girl in the picture and tilted his head to indicate Tsurara’s apartment. “Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.”

Kurosaki didn’t believe in fate. It was hard enough to think of his life as his own, instead of as mere consequences of his father’s actions, or as a chess-piece of Katsuragi’s game. He didn’t like being played with.

Before he knew it, he had pushed Shuji against the opposite wall, his hand wrapped around the front of the younger boy’s shirt. “And what’s that?” He asked in a hiss.

Shuji blinked up at him, wariness in his eyes, but no fear. Not yet. “I-I don’t know.” 

Kurosaki narrowed his eyes, his hand tightening. He didn’t know what he was going to do until he’d already done it, had already slammed his mouth against Shuji’s.

Shuji’s hands came up as if to shove the other man away. But he stopped when he felt the uncertainty beneath the demanding kiss. He automatically tried to gentle it, guiding the other man with hands and tongue. _You’re not used to kissing, are you? ___He thought fleetingly before the other man’s tongue swept up behind his teeth and he felt himself moaning. Kurosaki may seem inexperienced, but he was a quick study.

When the kiss ended, Shuji leaned his head back, utterly limbless. He almost fell down when Kurosaki stepped away, his face once again blank. 

“You should move out,” the other man said, which made Shuji straighten up.

“What?”

But Kurosaki would not meet his eyes. He bent down and snatched the rent envelope from the floor where it had fallen, and he walked out of the apartment without looking back.

Shuji rubbed his eyes. “Was it good for you, too?” He asked sarcastically to the empty room. Then he sat down with a thump and cradled his head in his hands. “Shit, shit, shit.”

\---

If he said that he’d never consider Akira in that light, he’d be lying. Shuji had found early on that he found a lot of people beautiful, be they men or women. His first month of freedom in Tokyo had him losing his virginity, all the kinds there was to lose. 

But though he had thought of it idly, such as when Akira would snuggle next to him in bed, or lean his chin on Shuji’s shoulder, he had never seriously contemplated it. Akira loved Nobuta. And he would never come between them again.

But now he had to come clean to himself: the reason he had followed Kurosaki to his apartment was attraction, a sort of curious compulsion, like the way a magnet just pulls the iron fillings across the paper. And then he met Tsurara, and it fell into place.

He had lied to Kurosaki. He knew what the universe was telling him. It was telling him that his presence kept Akira and Nobuta apart, just as now he’d somehow gotten between the strange thrumming tension that always existed between Kurosaki and Tsurara. 

Kurosaki was right; he needed to move out. 

He bit his lip and flushed, remembering the kiss. His lips were probably swollen, and would inspire much teasing at the office. He shook his head and tried to focus. He had a lot to do at the office. He didn’t have time to contemplate cosmic messages or moon around over some emotionally unavailable guy. 

But all throughout the day his hand kept touching his lips and in his mind’s eye, saw the same loneliness reflected in Kurosaki’s gaze.

\---

Kurosaki cursed under his breath, trying to get his breathing calmed down. Today was the final showdown against the shirosagi he was tracking, and he couldn’t afford any distraction. _Then you shouldn’t have done that, baka. ___He swiped his thumb across his bottom lip and winced.

Even in junior high or high school, there hadn’t been anyone; he had been too standoffish, preferring to watch from the sidelines. And then six years ago his world ended, and as kurosagi there was no room for anyone. 

So it had been his first kiss. And the way Shuji had held his face, had _taught ___him wordlessly, and had looked at him afterwards even as his blood boiled and his lips tingled: it made him want to run.

\---

Yoshikawa Tsurara sometimes wished she had never met Kurosaki. Especially today. Yukari had ignored her during their class together and had started spreading rumors about her to their classmates. Was it really worth it to love someone, when he acted like poison in her life? But she could not change her heart as easily as Kurosaki changed his name. 

She just wanted him to be happy. Even if he chose someone else.

\---

Shuji felt jittery. His ears were tuned to the metal staircase that led to the apartments; at every noise, he would peer out the window, not knowing if he wanted to see Kurosaki or to avoid him. 

Mentally, he had agreed with the necessity of finding somewhere else to live, somewhere with less complications, but somehow he couldn’t find it in him to go apartment-hunting again. He really should stop running away.

He slid out onto the walkway, to look over the streets. The moon was just reaching fullness, and the wind felt good on his face. He hadn’t decided on anything; his feelings were tangled up. But he felt the urge to see him again. 

As if wishing had made him appear, Shuji heard footfalls, and saw the familiar build of the man he kept thinking about. He walked to greet him at the top of the stairs, but stopped short when he saw him face to face. This Kurosaki had longer hair and wore thin, gold-rimmed glasses. He was also wearing a crisp white suit with a black shirt and a slim purple tie. 

For a moment, Shuji wondered if there was a _third ___doppelganger. But the man’s eyes met his and held, and then Kurosaki almost tripped over his feet. Shuji instinctively gripped his arm, to keep him from breaking his face on the steps.

“Daijoubu?” Shuji asked. 

Kurosaki straightened up, cursing under his breath. “I’m fine.” But Shuji still held onto his arm. He allowed himself to be guided up, but shook off the arm as soon as they were both on the walkway. 

“You look uh, different,” Shuji said lamely. “Did you come from a party or something?”

Kurosaki looked discomfited for a moment. “Ah, yes. It’s a costume,” he said. His tongue felt big and clumsy inside his mouth.

“Kurosaki, about last…” Shuji started, but the other man interrupted with a hand up, palm outturned. 

“Gomen-ne. I have something to do. We’ll talk later, Kiritani-san.”

Shuji watched him enter his apartment, a low ball of disappointment in his gut. But he was saved from further introspection by his ringing phone. He flipped it open, and saw Akira’s name.

“Moshimoshi,” he said, walking back to his own place, his shoulders slumped. “Hey, Akira.”

“Ne, Shuji-kun, I have some business meetings in Tokyo so I get to see you!” Akira immediately announced in a sing-song voice. “I’ve got reservations at Tokyo Grand Hotel, so I’ll meet you up there on the 14th, alright? You can sleep over if you want. And maybe we should invite Nobuta, too. But the last time I called, she said she had finals coming up, so I don’t know if she’ll be free. So what do you want me to bring you? I’ve bought some really good frozen natto already… ”

Shuji smiled, letting his best friend’s voice wash over him. “That’s great Akira.” Then he paused uncertainly, biting his lip and looking at the wall of his apartment, imagining the guy two doors away. 

Having Akira and Kurosaki in the same city seemed like the beginning of some disaster. _Maybe I should just keep them apart, ___he mused. He spared a thought to his best friend’s reaction if he confessed that he had kissed someone who could be Akira’s twin. _Yes, they really should not meet… ___


	3. Tug of War

Kusano Akira arrived with little fanfare. No helicopter came swooping down and no limousine drove up in a flash to deliver him to Tokyo. Instead he took the train from Ibaraki, loaded with souvenirs and his luggage. At the station, Shuji fidgeted, glancing at his watch every now and then. 

When Akira finally stepped out, Shuji couldn’t help the smile from spreading on his face, and he found something ease in his heart, as if he had just let go of a heavy burden. It was like that moment in Hokkaido all over again, when he saw his friend waiting for him in his new classroom. 

Akira waved at him madly, almost smacking into the people around him. It broke him free of his thoughts. Shuji laughed and they hugged and slapped each other’s backs. 

“Where’s your assistant?” Shuji asked, as soon as he had shouldered half of the bags Akira had brought. 

“I didn’t bring her,” Akira said. “I told her to have the week off. My schedule’s pretty straightforward, anyway.” He patted his pocket, where his appointment book was tucked in. Shuji would bet any amount of money that it still had a little pig on the cover. Akira was one of the most sentimental people he knew. 

“So we’ll go straight to the hotel?” He asked. “I got a leave of absence from the agency, but only for a couple of days. Any more and they’ll cut my pay.”

“Ah! Then maybe I should hire you as my temporary assistant,” Akira said cheerfully while they took the stairs down to the street.

Shuji rolled his eyes, although he didn’t doubt Akira would make it happen if he really wanted to. “We’ll see. You might be too busy to hang out, anyway.”

“But you’ve got to stay with me at the hotel!” Akira said, while Shuji was trying to hail a taxi. “It’ll be boring to stay there alone. Pretty please?”

“Well I got to get some things,” Shuji said reluctantly. 

“How about we drop by your place first?”

“No!” Shuji said a little too fast and a little too loud. “It’s fine. I need to run a few errands anyway. So why don’t you head for the hotel first, and I’ll meet you there for dinner, alright?”

Akira tilted his head, measuring Shuji with his eyes, but he finally shrugged. “Alright.”

A taxi finally stopped, and Shuji made Akira take it alone.

He watched the taxi cab leave and turned towards home, his mind whirling. He knew that look of Akira’s. It was one of infinite patience but also one of promise that he’ll find out what’s wrong. “Maybe he needs a distraction,” he muttered under his breath, wishing once again that Nobuta hadn’t had exams to prepare for. Nothing could distract Akira faster than Kotani Nobuko.

\---

Detective Kashima had gotten used to recognizing Kurosaki beneath whatever disguise he had on that day. And maybe he _was_ obsessed, because he found himself searching for the familiar line of jaw or all-knowing stare in every face he met. But it was still a surprise every time he caught sight of him. Like tonight. 

He was driving past Tokyo Grand Hotel, when he saw someone with Kurosaki’s features get out of a taxi cab. He almost crashed while craning his neck to see more. He swerved towards the curb, but had to take a side street to loop around and by the time he got back to the front of the hotel, Kurosaki was gone. 

If he went inside and asked around, he could tip him off, so Kashima hurried home to get some supplies for a stake-out. The rush of anticipation made him giddy and he felt like a predator scenting his prey. He laughed long and loudly, not bothering to try to discern the motives behind his own crazed and relentless pursuit. 

\---

Shuji got back to his apartment in record time, running up the steps full tilt. He slammed into Kurosaki and took them both down to the ground.

“Ah, sumimasen. Did I hurt you?” He asked breathlessly. He stiffened when he realized he was lying on top of the other guy, their visible breaths mingling. His heart pounding, he tried to push himself up, but Kurosaki grabbed his wrist.

“What’s the hurry? Something wrong?” 

Shuji just shook his head, pulling his hand away, but extending the other so Kurosaki could stand. “It’s nothing. But uh, I’m staying over a friend’s place for a week or so,” he said, feeling like he was asking permission. “So I won’t be around for awhile.”

“Why don’t you stay with him for good?” Kurosaki’s voice had changed, had turned to flint and steel.

Shuji looked down. Their hands were still joined. “He’s just visiting,” he said lamely. He gathered up his courage and caught the other man’s gaze. “Can we just…”

But the door to an apartment opened and Tsurara came out. Kurosaki dropped his hand like it was boiling hot, and he stepped away. Tsurara looked at the two boys curiously. 

“Ano, I heard a noise. Daijoubu?” She asked them.

“Betsuni,” Shuji answered, making a flipping gesture with his hand, hoping his face would not give him away. “Sorry for disturbing you, Yoshikawa-kun. Ah, I should get packing. Good night,” he bowed slightly to them and turned away.

Kurosaki wanted to stop him, but instead he nodded to Tsurara. “Yoshida,” he said in greeting. 

“It’s Yoshikawa. Why don’t you get it right?” She complained predictably, but she smiled at him before saying good night.

It wasn’t a good night; Kurosaki tossed and turned on his bed, his room suddenly feeling ice-cold and empty. 

\---

Kashima was sitting at the lobby holding a magazine to his face and surreptitiously taking pictures of everyone who enters. His stomach growled and he sighed, looking at his watch. Another hour of this and he’d have to go for dinner. If he had a partner, this would go much easier as they could take shifts. 

He idly took another picture of a thin young man who just walked in. He had copper hair in waves around his face. The man had stopped at the reception desk and made a call from there before heading to the elevators. 

Kashima turned towards the door once again.

\---

Shuji didn’t have to ring the doorbell. The elevator doors opened and Akira was standing against the opposite wall, already dressed in jerseys and a really tatty shirt, with an excited smirk on his face. 

“Shuuuji!” Akira grabbed his arm and dragged him to his suite, opening the door with a magnetic key. And he’s inside and he’s gaping. The suite was very luxurious, all mirrors and large vases with flowers and glass. There was a king-sized feather bed piled high with pillows, and a Jacuzzi in the bathroom that was as big as his bedroom in his apartment. And Akira didn’t seem fazed by it. He shoved a menu in Shuji’s face. “Pick something, and we’ll get room service, okay?”

Shuji sat down at the dark blue couch and looked at the menu. There were no prices listed. “Uh, I’m not really hungry,” he said lamely. 

“Then how about I order?” Akira sat down beside him, bouncing a little. “I think I want some barbecued eel and miso soup and a huge chocolate cake…”

Shuji’s eyes widened. “Do you eat like that all the time? Why aren’t you fatter?”

They mock-elbowed each other for awhile until Akira giggled so much he fell off the couch. “When there’s a lot of work, Akira doesn’t eat much,” he confessed from the floor.

Shuji held out a hand and pulled him back to his side with a soft oof. “That’s not good, isn’t it? Shouldn’t your assistant remind you to eat?”

Akira shrugged. “Even if she did, I wouldn’t have the time.” His voice was more solemn. “It’s not that bad,” he added, with a quirky grin at his best friend. “The ocean’s nearby so it’s like Hokkaido, and sometimes we have our meetings on a boat. And the work can be fun, too. And if you do things over and over, it can feel peaceful.”

Shuji nodded silently, a little saddened and a little relieved by the sign of his friend’s maturity. “It’s the same with me. Sometimes just doing the same things every day feels so futile, especially if you can’t see the end product. But I do enjoy being there. It reminds me of us.” He flushed, realizing how he sounded. “The three of us, I mean.”

Akira nodded decisively, shaping his hand in a fox-shape and using it to peck Shuji’s cheek. “Are you really not hungry, Shuji-kun?”

“I guess I could eat,” Shuji said wryly.

\---

Kurosaki let himself into Shuji’s apartment. It was past midnight; he had given up on sleeping, and his strange restlessness had driven him there. He efficiently looked through the younger man’s things until he found a small album. It was full of pictures of Shuji, Tsurara’s look-a-like, and the man wearing his face. 

Taking it, he sat down on Shuji’s bed and leafed through the pages. He remembered his own blackened face in the family picture he kept in the house. He bit the inside of his cheek at the memory and tried to replace it. He was good at controlling his emotions, although Tsurara’s presence had driven some chinks into his armor. And now Shuji…

He bit again, harder, until he could taste blood. Deliberately, he stared at the pictures and found himself pretending that the person whose arm was around Shuji was him. _He_ was always smiling, making strange gestures with _his_ fingers. _He_ was riding a bike behind Shuji, _his_ arms around the other man. And Shuji looked at _him_ like that, a mixture of exasperation, trust and love. And they obviously doted over the girl who resembled his annoying tenant.

It was the first time he had felt so damn envious. 

Often, when he had finished a job, and he received the thank-yous from the victims, he had to take a step back to stop himself from being touched, from being _moved_. And once he was out of the circle, he would watch them try to move on with their lives, and he would feel a stab of jealousy in his heart. Then he would turn away, and the jealousy would be overtaken by his hunger for vengeance. 

But this time, in the middle of contemplating a completely altered life, the hunger was for something else. 

“You just need to get laid,” he whispered out loud, closing the album with a snap and lying down on Shuji’s bed. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

\---

The two boys had a feast in the living room, just talking and laughing, but they ended up in bed together, snuggled up as usual. Long after Akira had fallen asleep however, Shuji looked around at the dim outlines of the room and thought about everything.

Was it really possible to continue this _thing_ with Kurosaki? If he did, the two would inevitably meet, since he can’t just avoid Akira forever. If he didn’t want any complications, he’d move out. But this longing was just that; for the first time in his life, he wanted complications. He wanted to get to know Kurosaki, wanted to touch him and make him laugh. He wanted to taste him again. He wanted to go out with him, hold his hands, watch movies and eat dinner with him. He wanted to tell Akira and Nobuta about him, and wanted their approval, their light-hearted teasing.

He wanted it all. But it meant nothing if Kurosaki didn’t want it, too. 


	4. Closing In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having both Akira and Kurosaki in the same city is just a recipe for trouble.

“Bingo,” Kashima said under his breath as the elevator doors opened and his target finally appeared. It was early next morning. His suit was crumpled and his nerves were shot from lack of sleep, but he barely gave it a thought. He was careful to hide his face, although he knew Kurosaki wouldn’t change his plans no matter who was watching, but Kashima still had a good view of the two young men who stepped out.

One was definitely Kurosaki, although his hair was shorter, making him look like a respectable businessman. And the other was the same guy whose picture he had taken last night, the thin one with the longish, shaggy hair and the arching eyebrows. He looked much too young compared to Kurosaki’s usual victims.

For a moment, he wondered if the man was the client instead, but the two were laughing. It was a rare moment to see Kurosaki’s face so open and carefree. It was yet another mask, he knew. Which meant the other kid was a shirosagi of some sort, maybe even an akasagi. 

Mentally debating his next step, Kashima found himself calling HQ for back-up. He smiled with teeth-bared. “I got you now, Kurosaki. And I won’t let you go this time.”

\---

Mishima Yukari didn’t consider herself a spoiled brat. Sure, her family was rich, and she had a huge allowance, and she could choose to study whatever she wanted. But she never got what she really wanted: attention. Love. Kurosaki’s love, to be exact. 

But nothing she did worked. The closest she had come to the dashing swindler was when he had helped her case with his old classmate from high school. It was as if he only saw people if they were victims or con-men. _Or if they were annoying busybodies like Yoshikawa Tsurara._ She gritted her teeth. Her ex-friend’s betrayal still hurt. She didn’t have so many friends that the loss of one could be ignored. 

But she would not give up. There has to be a way inside that heart.

And then she saw him. With a guy. They were crossing the street a few meters away and Kurosaki was almost skipping, while clutching the wrist of the other guy. He was pointing enthusiastically at all sorts of things. It was… _weird_ seeing him like that. He looked _happy._

She remembered Tsurara’s arguments against Kurosaki’s revenge. She had never seen those expressions on the other man’s face. It dawned on Yukari how little she really knew about him. But the most important question was: who was this guy, and what was he to Kurosaki?

She took a picture of the two with her phone’s camera, and headed to Tsurara’s place. There was no help for it; she had to swallow her pride, if only to learn a little more about future possible rivals. In the end, Kurosaki would be _hers_ and no one else’s.

\---

Yoshikawa Tsurara opened her mouth in a little o when she saw who was at her door. 

“What do you want, Yukari?” She asked warily. She was tired of dealing with the other girl’s jealousy and her own guilt.

But Yukari ignored her expression and slid inside. “I just wanted to know about something about Kurosaki-kun, Tsurara-chan. I thought since the two of you are so close and everything, you’d be able to answer my question.”

Tsurara bit her lip. Yukari’s false charm hurt, too, because of the malice still evident on her face and tone. “Yukari, can we ever repair things between us?”

Yukari tilted her head. “Hmmm. Depends on whether you help me, isn’t it, Tsurara-chan?”

Tsurara sighed. “Fine. What is it?”

Yukari flipped her phone open and clicked to show the picture of the two boys. “What do you know about this guy?”

Tsurara looked at blurred but still distinct features of her two neighbors hand-holding and laughing with each other. Her jaw dropped. 

“What, Tsurara? Do you know him?” Yukari asked impatiently.

“H-he lives next door,” Tsurara answered weakly. “His name is Shuji.”

\---

“Kiritani Shuji and Kusano Akira,” Katsuragi murmured to himself, chewing on a sugar cube. 

Across the kitchen island, Kurosaki had stiffened. “What?” He asked belligerently.

Katsuragi motioned to Hayasa, and she plucked a large brown envelope from a cupboard and placed it in front of Kurosaki. Cursing himself for his own unsatisfied curiosity, Kurosaki opened it and slid out several pictures. 

The two boys leaving a hotel together, walking hand in hand, laughing, leaning into each other, making strange gestures with their hands, feeding each other at a small restaurant…

Kurosaki stifled the urge to crumple the pictures, though he knew the old man would have already read the jealousy on his face. “And what is this for?” He asked, after he had composed himself enough that his voice did not tremble.

“The Kusanos own a very lucrative little company. The production and distribution are based in Ibaraki, while the head office is here in Tokyo,” Katsuragi recited almost meditatively. “Kusano Akira is the only son and heir. His mother is long-dead and his father is living at a mansion here. He and Kiritani Shuji were classmates throughout high school. When Kiritani moved to Hokkaido, Kusano Jr. followed him. They’ve been inseparable ever since.”

Kurosaki had to exert effort to keep the bored expression on his face. “So what? They’re not swindlers.”

“Shall I start talking about Kiritani Shuji next?” Katsuragi asked.

“Only if this has a point,” Kurosaki drawled.

Katsuragi sipped his coffee before replying. “Some people make their own families. Do you ever think about what would happen after you’ve accomplished your revenge, my boy? Do you ever dream about having a normal life?”

Kurosaki glared at the older man though his words had hit a little too close to home. “I’ve had enough of this from Yoshikawa. Besides,” he added, “I wouldn’t want you to get bored if I suddenly up and quit.”

Katsuragi opened his eyes wide and smiled at him. “I’ve watched over you like a son these past six years. Every father wants their son to live well, don’t they?”

 _Except mine_ was Kurosaki’s unspoken thought. He didn’t believe a word of it, anyway. It was just the old man finding a new game to play. He stood up, making himself look away from the pictures on the counter. “If you don’t have anything useful for me…” 

“I didn’t say that, did I,” Katsuragi shot back. Hayasa laid another envelope on the table without further prompting. There was a tiny picture attached of a smiling middle-aged man. 

Kurosaki forced his emotions under control and focused on Katsuragi’s explaination of the shirosagi’s modus operandi. He pointed an index finger at the picture. “Bang.”

\---

Long after he had left, Katsuragi looked over the pictures again. “People are interesting, aren’t they?” He said, tracing the faces of the two men. 

“What do you really have in mind, Katsuragi-san?” Hayasa asked while she dried some plates on the other side of the counter.

Katsuragi laughed. “I’ve always wondered what will tempt our boy. How about it, Hayasa? Want to play matchmaker with me?”

\---

Shuji snuck home in the afternoon while Akira was at the business meeting with his father’s board members. The hotel room felt too empty when he was the only one in it, and he understood why Akira was so adamant that he stay over. 

He was carrying a bag of the frozen natto that Akira had brought, having retrieved it from the hotel freezer. The bag contained several packs, too much for one person, so Shuji dropped a pack off at Jin’s place, several at his office, and was knocking door to door to give some to his neighbors as well.

Someone else answered Tsurara’s door, however: a young woman with thin features and expensive-looking clothes. She was glaring at him with such poison, that for a moment, he was back in time facing Kasumi Aoi after she had confessed about sabotaging Nobuta.

He took a step away, unable to find his voice. He had never dealt well with other people’s disapproval and that still hadn’t changed. But the door opened wider and he saw Tsurara’s familiar face smiling at him apologetically from over the other girl’s shoulder.

“I just had some extra…” He began, holding up the still icy pack. But the glaring girl dragged him inside. He stumbled forward, managing to hand Tsurara the natto before finding his footing. “And you must be Tsurara’s friend,” he tried again, his cheeks hurting with the effort to maintain his smile. The door remained open, and he squashed the impulse to slip through it and just start running.

“I’m Yukari,” the girl said, tossing her hair and raising an eyebrow. “And I want to know how long you and Kurosaki have been dating.”

Shuji’s jaw dropped open, but he was saved from speaking by Tsurara.

“I’m sorry about this, Kiritani-kun. But, uh, Yukari saw you this morning with Kurosaki…”

Shuji took a deep breath that somehow got lodged in his throat and he choked out a few barks of hysterical laughter. Yukari didn’t like his reaction. She pushed him so that he took a hard step back, and she came close enough that he could smell the tea that she just drank. 

“You. Will. Tell. Me. Everything,” she said as if to a slow-witted child.

“Stop it, Yukari,” Tsurara protested, though her voice was weak and she looked down at the ground, making Shuji believe that she wanted to hear his answer as well. 

“You two are in love with him,” he muttered in surprise, then cursed himself silently for his foolishness. He didn’t need their replies; their faces already confirmed his suspicions, though Tsurara’s cheeks turned red and Yukari looked even angrier. 

“Look, I know love and jealousy can make you do some crazy things, but it’s really none of your business, isn’t it?” Shuji hurriedly added. He didn’t want to explain about Akira, didn’t want his best friend entangled in this messed up love triangle, or whatever shape it was now. “I mean, you probably just saw someone who looked like Kurosaki…”

Someone walked up the stairs, and all three heads swiveled to see who it was through the open door. “Well, why don’t we ask him all about it?” Yukari tilted her chin defiantly and grabbed Shuji’s arm as she walked towards the just ascending Kurosaki. Tsurara followed behind them almost meekly; she was acting like Nobuta used to act, which discomfited Shuji, especially since Kurosaki had arrived dressed and looking exactly like Akira did this morning.

Yukari frowned when she saw Kurosaki’s outfit. So it was true after all. But she wouldn’t give up unless she heard it from Kurosaki’s own lips. “Kurosaki-kun, maybe you could clear up something for me,” she began sweetly as soon as he stopped in front of the assembled group.

Kurosaki looked at them one by one: Yukari’s face was determined and Tsurara’s embarrassed, while Shuji met his eyes with raised brows and marked confusion all over his face. The younger man obviously recognized his new disguise.

“Ah, did you finally find out about my twin brother?” Kurosaki answered cheerfully. “Where is Akira anyway, Shuji-kun?” 

Shuji blinked slowly. “Ah, he had to go to a meeting. But we’re having dinner together. Are you coming, too? He’ll get a kick out of that outfit.”

 _He lies really well,_ Kurosaki thought to himself. “No, sorry. I have some business to attend to. So you’ll still be staying with him again tonight?”

Shuji knew his face was red as he nodded. “Hai. I just came home because of the natto. Ano, do you want a pack?” He asked uncertainly.

Kurosaki tilted his head. “I don’t cook. Give it to Yoshida.”

“Huh?” Shuji asked, looking around, but Tsurara’s protest explained everything. 

“It’s Yoshikawa! And you know having instant noodles all the time isn’t good for you,” Tsurara added, though she accepted another pack of natto from Shuji. 

Kurosaki just raised his eyebrows. “If I wanted a wife, Yoshida, I know who to ask. Now shouldn’t good little girls like you have homework or projects to do?” He looked at his watch impatiently.

Yukari bit her lip at the easy familiarity between Kurosaki and his neighbors. Maybe she should move in, too. “Since when did you have a twin brother?” Yukari demanded. “Is this part of some swindling operation?”

“What?” Shuji’s shock made his voice break.

Kurosaki bit his cheek at the other man’s expression, but met their eyes one by one and continued calmly. “My father sold my brother when we were young, so we didn’t grow up together. Shuji could invite him over some time, if you still don’t believe us. How long is he in town, anyway?”

“Ah, he’s leaving by the end of the week,” Shuji explained, choosing to trust the other man and continue the charade. “I’ll probably bring him by before he leaves.” He glanced at Tsurara. “He’ll be interested in meeting you guys.” _Especially someone who looks like the girl of his dreams,_ he added mentally. 

“Fine. I’ll be here,” Yukari announced before stomping off down the stairs. 

The three watched her leave. “Is it really true, Shuji?” Tsurara asked as soon as she was out of sight. “About a twin brother, I mean?”

Shuji smiled reassuringly. “I’ll bring him by. I promise.”

“Of course, we could have just told Yukari about our relationship, Shuji-kun,” Kurosaki added, leaning back against the railing. “Then she’d stop being such a nuisance.”

It was Tsurara’s turn to utter a shocked, “What?” She looked at them disbelievingly. Shuji didn’t know whether to laugh at her reaction or to join her. 

“Kurosaki…” He began.

The older man laughed. “Knowing her, she’ll probably ask for a demonstration. How about it, Shuji?” He tugged at the other man’s shirt-tail in mock affection. 

Shuji’s heart started to pound. Kurosaki was smiling but his eyes remained unreadable. “How about we figure it out first,” he said softly, “before bringing other people into it?” He couldn’t look Tsurara in the eyes.

Tsurara just shook her head. “Are you confusing me for the hell of it, Kurosaki? Or was Yukari right? Is this another one of your games?”

Kurosaki gave her a tightlipped smile. “I don’t play games, Tsurara-kun. And it doesn’t matter to me what you believe, as long as you leave me alone.” His hand caught Shuji’s wrist and tugged hard, so that the younger man stumbled onto him. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a few things to discuss.”

Shuji allowed himself to be pulled inside Kurosaki’s apartment. His head was in a whirl and he barely registered the huge mess of papers and clothes inside. “What was that all about?” He asked as soon as Kurosaki closed the door behind them.

“You never did ask me what I did for a living,” Kurosaki answered flatly, emotions draining from his face. 

“So what is it?” Shuji asked.

“I’m a swindler. But I target other swindlers. They call me Kurosagi.”

“So those two girls knew about you?”

“They’ve both been victimized by swindlers. I helped them out: pretty stupid of me, in hindsight. Those two have been nothing but trouble since,” Kurosaki said calmly, watching Shuji and gauging his reaction. He had never shied away from telling people who he really was, especially if he wanted them to keep their distance. But this time was different…

Shuji bit his bottom lip. “So you’re a good guy?”

Kurosaki shrugged. “Yukari thinks I’m Robin Hood; Tsurara wants me to quit. Does it matter?”

Shuji didn’t know how to answer, so he changed the subject. “What does Akira have to do with this?” He gestured at Kurosaki’s identical outfit. “How did you even know what he was wearing?”

“Having him in the same city as me was a bad idea.” Kurosaki struggled with words. “He’s caught the eye of certain dangerous people. I thought I’d do something to confuse them a little, and put on a show.”

“How dangerous?” Shuji asked warily.

“Very,” Kurosaki answered. “This person likes to play games. Look, I’m sorry I got you into this. If you move out now, and tell your friend to leave town, it might blow over.”

Shuji raised a hand to massage his temples. “I can’t just tell Akira to leave. He has business here. And besides he’s been living in Tokyo since birth and he’s never encountered you before.”

“Really?” Kurosaki frowned. “How rich is his father, anyway?”

Shuji shrugged. “Rich. I don’t really know. We’ve never really talked about it. They own an import export thing, plus they manufacture some products. Why?”

“If they’re big in the business world, Katsuragi would have known about him already. Probably long before he’d met me, too.”

“Well,” Shuji said slowly, “Akira didn’t really live with his dad in high school. He was staying at a tofu shop with an old friend of his father’s. Who’s Katsuragi?” 

“He sells me information,” Kurosaki answered shortly. “I doubt he’ll kill anyone, but you shouldn’t risk it.”

“Look, if you wanted me to move out, why did you have to tell Tsurara those things?” Shuji blushed again. “She obviously cares for you. Unless you don’t really want me to leave,” Shuji said almost as an afterthought. 

Kurosaki didn’t deny it, looking away. “Just stick to your friend and keep to crowded places. And call me if you notice anything suspicious.”

Shuji took Kurosaki’s number numbly, and gave his in return. It all felt a little surreal. The other man opened the door, waiting for him to leave. He stepped out but lingered by the door, glancing at the hallway to make sure that Tsurara had gone inside her apartment already. 

“This thing between us…” Shuji began.

Kurosaki sighed. “Don’t you get it? You don’t know me. I’ll just fuck up your life.”

Shuji smiled at him. “Well you don’t know me either. And it seems like I’m the one dragging you into this mess. The question is: do you want this?” His voice quavered but he raised his chin and held his gaze.

Kurosaki looked back at him silently. He stepped closer, and kissed Shuji again. It was almost gentle, his mouth slanting over the other boy’s as he cupped Shuji’s jaw. 

“Ask me again after your friend leaves,” Kurosaki rasped out and he closed the door in Shuji’s flushed face.


	5. Mirror Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge is Kurosaki's burden. And it is his anchor.

Revenge. For six years, Kurosaki had barely spent a thought on anything other than revenge.

Sure, he saw families fall apart or pull together in the course of his work. He saw how it could have been, if only his father hadn’t trusted that con-man, if only he hadn’t picked up that knife. If only a kurosagi had existed then to fight against the shirosagi and akasagi of the world.

But it was a dream made of if-onlys. He had never thought of wanting his own family because he could not imagine trusting anyone that much. And his revenge wasn’t finished, would _never_ be finished.

But why didn’t it worry him more, that Yoshikawa Tsurara and Kiritani Shuji had somehow wormed their way into his defenses? That the future suddenly became something more than a thirst for the next hunt? He had never realized how much he wanted to trust someone, until that trust was offered back to him. 

He watched from the shadows as Shuji walked out through the tunnel and up the stairs. For the first time since forever, he thought about stepping into the light. 

\---

All the way back to the hotel, Shuji was lost in thought, but not enough that he didn’t notice he was being followed. 

He ducked behind some bushes and waited for the person to appear. It was Yukari. He slipped out right in front of her, making her jump. 

“What are you doing?” He asked her bluntly. 

Yukari crossed her arms. “I want to see this twin brother with my own eyes,” she said defiantly. “And I don’t trust you.”

Shuji bit back a growl. “Fine. If you see him, will you stop pestering me then?”

Yukari looked suspicious at his easy acquiescence but nodded.

“I’m not introducing the two of you. If you’re in love with Kurosaki, I don’t want you anywhere near my friend,” Shuji warned her. “Just watch from somewhere.” 

He tried to walk past her but she stopped him. “So Kurosaki’s twin is your boyfriend?”

Shuji sighed loudly. “It’s none of your business. In fact, anything to do with Kurosaki is none of your business.” His eyes raked down her derisively. “You should just get a life, Yukari-san.”

Yukari watched him walk away, her blood boiling. Someone else watched her watching. 

\---

_Is it really alright?_ Shuji thought, squashing the urge to look around. If anything happened to Akira because of him, he’d never forgive himself. On the other hand, since the two men shared a face, they’d have crossed paths eventually. _I wonder if the story could possibly be true._ Kurosaki’s improvised tale of separated brothers didn’t seem likely; Akira resembled his father in face and temperament. But there weren’t any other explanations that could be so easily believed. 

He spared Yukari a thought. Normally, he would never talk to any girl like that, but something about her rubbed him wrong. It was that possessive and imperious glint in her eye, like she expected the world to give her everything she wanted. He understood the impulse of wanting to keep someone completely yours; it was like what Akira felt for Nobuta once upon a time. Maybe it had something to do with being rich; she looked like the spoiled princess type. But that love wasn’t real.

Loving meant giving. He had never been in love before, but he had learned that much from Akira and Nobuta, and from his own family. He stumbled when he realized where his thoughts were leading: he wanted to give his all, to try to fill that emptiness he could sense in Kurosaki. Did that mean he was in love…?

Since when did this go beyond simple attraction? _Since you met the guy with your best friend’s face_ , he thought wryly to himself. His feelings for Akira and his awareness of Kurosaki’s presence made sure that whatever could happen between them would never be simple.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Shuji hunched down and walked faster against the sudden gust of wind that blew his bangs away from his face. Never mind what the future will bring; Akira was what mattered now. 

Just as he saw the building, his phone began to ring. He checked the name of the caller: Kurosaki.

\---

“Everything’s clean, sir,” the underling told him earnestly. “Kusano-san runs a tight ship; every penny is accounted for, and his employees seem to be mostly content.”

Detective Kashima growled in frustration, sending the poor lad scurrying away. “What about that guy in the picture? Any word on him?” He asked someone else. His team had been working double-time ever since he sighted Kurosagi entering the head office of Kusano Industries. “There has to be something there, damn it.”

“There’s no match in the database for his face,” someone else informed him. “If we don’t have a name, we can’t connect him to Kusano Industries or to Kurosagi.” 

“Maybe he’s an accomplice,” he mused, tapping a finger against a folder on his desk. “We’ll have to see how he fits into the scheme.”

“But we aren’t even sure who Kurosagi’s target is,” his partner asked. “How can we follow his movements?”

“There has to be someone inside Kusano Industries,” Kashima reiterated, not ready to give up. “Get me the names of everyone he talks to so we can weed it out. He’s still being tailed, isn’t he?”

“Well it’s a little hard to maneuver people inside the premises,” another detective said sheepishly. “We have guards at every exit, but we can’t do more without arousing anyone’s suspicion.”

Kashima slammed an open palm against the table, a stream of curses falling from his lips. He hated feeling helpless. “Keep me updated,” he growled out, before pulling on his jacket and clipping on his badge and gun. “I’ll get this guy even if I have to meet with the damn president himself.”

\---

Kusano Takeshi smiled until his eyes were creased. He leaned back against his chair as he watched his son’s report on the distribution figures of the past six months. Akira was dressed in a crisp suit, and faced the board members confidently. 

Sometimes, he wondered if Akira ever regretted his decision to work for the company. In high school, Akira had wanted to be a wandering dime on the street—someone unexpected and outside the norm—and he had finally resigned himself to that choice. But after his son had graduated, Akira had come to his father with a résumé, and started talking about his dream to start a family. He was someone unexpected and outside the norm indeed.

These past couple of years, Takeshi watched his son slowly earn respect from his colleagues and superiors with surprise and pleasure. Akira had dropped his goofy act—on company time anyway—and seriously started to learn about the production and distribution process. He had thought it would take another decade before his son could replace him, but at this rate, he could retire in five years and leave the company in good hands.

He really needed to thank Kiritani Shuji and Kotani Nobuko. He had heard about their producing project from the owner of the tofu shop; in the end, his son had been as changed as Miss Kotani. 

Akira concluded his speech with a bow in his father’s direction. Takeshi nodded, and amidst the polite applause, he stood up and walked towards the stage to speak to the members. He stifled the urge to hug his son in public; it wouldn’t do to eschew professionalism for fatherly pride. Still, he clasped his son’s shoulder, keeping the younger Kusano beside him as he said a few, last words. This time the applause was more energetic, as everyone was happy it was over. He didn’t blame them; meetings like these usually bored him as well. 

Akira leaned towards him and whispered, “Shuji texted me; he’s waiting at the coffee shop across the street. Is it okay...?” He raised his eyebrows and pouted at him, making him look like a particularly pathetic dog.

Takeshi laughed. “No problem, son. Just don’t forget tomorrow’s lunch with the investors. And then I got you for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Can we have it with Hirayama-san at the tofu shop?” Akira asked. “I haven’t had his bean milk in ages!”

“Sure,” Takeshi agreed with a fond smile. “By the way, the lunch is at the Katsura restaurant at eleven-thirty. I’ll call you at eleven to remind you.”

“Okay, dad,” Akira said, slapping his father’s back, making him lurch forward. “Ja ne.”

\---

Akira stepped into the elevator just as Detective Kashima stepped out. The detective caught sight of the lingering groups of board members in the hallway of the Kusano Industries building, and carefully assessed each face, searching for that of Kusano Takeshi’s. 

\---

Getting in without being noticed by the police surrounding the perimeter was a piece of cake for Kurosaki. He had brought his briefcase, which contained a set of false noses, wigs and facial hair, as well as a quick change of clothes. He snuck in looking like an old man, and waited by the elevator for his doppelganger to appear.

The door opened, and Akira found himself being dragged into the nearest washroom. He was shoved into a stall, the door locked behind the both of them. And he watched open-mouthed as his attacker began to peel the slightly warty nose. The hair came off next, and the make-up expertly wiped in a matter of seconds. 

Akira was an easy-going guy, but even he had his limits. Muttering “Akira shock!” under his breath, he poked and prodded at the man’s face, as if it were another mask that could be peeled off. 

“Stop it,” Kurosaki growled, even though he wanted to do the same to the other man’s face. It was even more eerie up close: Akira’s hair was shorter, and his cheeks a little rounder, but everything else was the same. It was like looking at the mirror into an alternate reality. He had to bat the other man’s hands down before he stopped, however, and he glared daggers at his double. “Will you just listen? The cops think you’re me, and the building is crawling with them. If they catch you, Shuji will get in trouble, too.”

Akira frowned. The explanation left out so much, such as why the cops were after the other guy in the first place. But he concentrated on what’s important. “How do you know Shuji?”

Kurosaki closed his eyes, and stifled the urge to bang his head against the tiled wall. “I’ll answer your questions later. Now here’s what I want you to do.” He leaned closer and began to outline his plan.

\---

Shuji blinked when a bespectacled man with gray hair and a moustache slipped in the booth, in the chair across from him. But he recognized the grin. It was Akira. 

“Are you alright?” He asked. “Did you uh—“

Akira just winked at him. “Can we go to the washroom first? This hairy thing is itchy.” 

“So how do you know that guy?” Akira asked as soon as he was back to his old self. “And why didn’t you tell me right away?” He pouted for effect.

Shuji scratched the back of his head. They had slipped out the coffee shop into the street, though they kept to the shadows. Kurosaki was nowhere to be found. “He’s my landlord. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you have to admit it’s pretty unbelievable.” He bit his lip. “Especially since the girl who lives next do—“

Before he could finish, a group of men had come out from an alley ahead and behind them. They surrounded the two of them. Shuji’s heart began to pound. “Shit,” he muttered, automatically trying to shield Akira by stepping sideways and pushing his friend back. “What do you want?”

“Just come with us, and we promise you won’t get hurt,” the leader of the group announced. He looked like some gang member, with chains hanging across his back, sewed on his black vinyl vest, and weird piercings and tattoos all over his body. He had black hair with bleached tips, and a menacing look in his eye.

Shuji gulped.

\---

It was too fast for her to follow. One minute she was slipping out of the café, trying to figure out if the weird man with Kiritani-san was Kurosaki or not, and the next she was watching something that seemed to come straight from an action movie.

A group of rough-looking men had slipping out and surrounded the two boys. Kurosaki’s look-a-like somehow changed from a goofy idiot to an alert and wary fighter. That Kiritani guy held his own for awhile, but he was soon getting beat up by two of the gangsters. At least, until Kurosaki’s twin dragged both of them off and kicked them in the face. 

She bit her lip, uncertain what to do next, except watch helplessly as the man with her beloved’s face carried stupid Kiritani-san and hailed a taxi. Before she could decide whether to follow or not, they were already gone. 

\---

Katsuragi frowned when he got the message from one half-conscious punk. It gets harder and harder these days to find decent help. But there could still be a way… He sent a message to Kurosaki’s number: _Your Shuji got in a little accident._

He chuckled darkly, musing aloud, “What will you do now, boy?”


	6. A little hope (and a lot of complications)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the rest of this fic planned out but not yet written so please bear with me. Thanks for everyone who have read and commented! Truth be told, I consider this fic obscure to the extreme. I'm literally writing it just because I'm rooting for Shuji and Kurosaki.

“You were looking for me?” Kurosaki asked the detective, leaning insolently on a post in the lobby, just beside the elevators. 

Detective Kashima had just come from a frustrating interview with the president of Kusano Industries, who thought Kurosaki was his son. Just how did that bastard manage that? When he saw the swindler face to face, he couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed Kurosaki’s lapels and pushed him up against the post. 

“I’ll figure this out, Kurosaki. Mark my words.”

Kurosaki laughed. “Thanks for your hard work,” he said mockingly even as he sauntered out. One of his cellphones beeped discreetly. His face darkened as soon as he read the mail Katsuragi had sent. “You’re overreaching yourself, old man,” he muttered under his breath, even as his thumb scrolled down to find Kiritani Shuji’s number on his phone. 

It took awhile before somebody picked up on the other end. “Moshimoshi.” Kurosaki heard his own voice, though the pitch and accent was different, like a distorted echo. 

“Where are you?” He demanded. “Is Shuji alright?”

“I got him back to the hotel. How did you know we got beat up?” Akira asked guilelessly. “Were they after you? Ne, this double thing can be pretty confusing.”

“Look, just stay put, okay?” Kurosaki’s impatience spilled through his words. “I’ll be right there.”

\---

Shuji was lying on Akira’s bed practically asleep when the buzzer rang. He had found a position that didn’t aggravate his left side, which would be black and blue by morning. Right now he barely felt it through the haze of the painkillers his friend made him drink. He hated getting into fights. As a child he had been bullied for being too scrawny and mouthy. It had been one of the reasons he tried to be Mr. Popularity. 

He barely heard Akira’s footsteps and the door as it swung open. And then someone was cupping his chin, examining his face, and pressing fingers down his ribs to check for injuries. He couldn’t stop himself from wincing, but he batted the hands away, mumbling. “I’m fine, Akira. Just let me sleep.”

Kurosaki’s face froze, and with great restraint, he didn’t immediately snatch away his hands. He turned to his double hovering behind him.

“I gave him some pills,” Kusano Akira whispered loudly. “He can stay here with me tonight, but you still have explanations to make.” His face was uncharacteristically solemn, not that Kurosaki realized that.

His lips thinned, and he took one last look at Shuji’s slack face, stifling the urge to run a finger across the younger man’s slightly open lips. He stood up a bit more abruptly than he intended and strode to the living room, his adrenaline still doing crazy things to his mood.

He met his double’s gaze, only now noticing and cataloguing his injuries. There weren’t any on Kusano Akira’s face, although his knuckles were swollen, and he favored his right leg a little. “Did they say anything?” He asked in a gravelly voice.

But Akira held up a hand. “I’m not usually this patient. But after meeting someone who looks like my twin brother, and then getting jumped by random gangsters, and _then_ watching my twin brother practically molest my best friend, well, let’s just say my patience is at its breaking point.”

Kurosaki should have had enough self-control not to react to the words. But he flinched, and covered it up by a rough chuckle. “I’m pretty sure we’re not twins.” He would have said something about how he hadn’t molested Shuji, but realized how defensive he would have sounded.

“So it’s a coincidence that Shuji lives in your apartment?” Akira asked.

Kurosaki shrugged. “He called it a quirk of fate. He didn’t tell me about you until I saw your picture at his place.”

Akira’s eyebrows rose. “He didn’t tell me about you at all! So,” he added casually, “what were you doing inside his apartment?”

“I was getting the rent,” Kurosaki gritted out, though he damned himself for the blush he knew had spread across his cheeks.

“I’m still his best friend.” Akira sounded like he was trying to convince himself, and his tone reminded Kurosaki of his younger self, before running cons and living alone had made him harder. Harder to touch, but not impossible.

“And I’m not his friend at all,” Kurosaki said as if in confession. “You’re right that I got you into this trouble.”

Akira just shrugged. “It’s not your fault that we share the same face.”

“But it is mine that certain groups are interested in my activities.”

Akira leaned forward. “Tell me everything.” His tone had Kurosaki straightening his spine before he realized what he was doing. 

Reluctantly, and with as little expression as possible, he unraveled the story of his life, giving the bare facts of his family’s death, and his subsequent career in a concise manner. It went against his nature to be so open, but maybe the stress had finally gotten its claws into him, because he felt he was unburdening himself. Not even Yoshikawa Tsurara, or Kiritani Shuji had made him feel like this, like it was _safe_. Maybe it was a mere delusion, but he couldn’t let it go.

His throat was raw after he had finished, and Akira stood up silently and got him a glass of water. He had drained it before the other man spoke. “You forgot to mention that you’re in love with my best friend.”

Kurosaki inhaled noisily and ended up in a coughing fit, but Akira ignored the interruption. “And he must like you too, to hide you from me,” he announced like he had discovered the meaning of life.

“Did it ever occur to you that Shuji is in love with you?” Kurosaki said bitterly. “But since he knew you liked somebody else, he’s shifted those feelings onto me, because kami forbid he ruin your precious friendship.”

They both looked at the bedroom’s closed door. Akira’s mouth hung open, and Kurosaki took vindictive pleasure in having rendered the other man speechless. “Look, I’ve already said too much,” he said in a more conciliatory tone, standing up. “And you obviously need some time to absorb all this, so I’ll be going for now. I trust he will be safe here.”

It wasn’t precisely a question but Akira nodded anyway. “I’ll call the hotel manager to tighten security measures.” His voice was automatic and professional; his mind was evidently on other things. “And we’ll figure out your troubles, too.”

Before Kurosaki could protest that he didn’t need any help, he was escorted out, the door shut firmly in his face. He rubbed his temples, just now grasping how messy the situation was getting, and how out of his depth he really was. 

It had been a long night, but it wasn’t over yet. He still had to talk to Katsuragi about his meddling. He turned on his heel and walked away, pushing from his mind the image of Kiritani Shuji lying so peacefully and trustingly on Kusano Akira’s bed. _And you had to put the idea in Akira’s head, didn’t you?_ He accused himself silently, before erasing the recriminations with the last of his self-control. It wouldn’t do to meet the old man with such dangerous distractions.

\---

Katsuragi understood hunger, the kind that wiped out all thought, hunger that gnawed through you and fed on your insides. Nowadays, he was always ravenous and hollow, but nothing tasted right to his sickened tongue. He also understood the hunger in other people, their grasping hands and greed-filled eyes. He saw in Kurosaki that same yawning pit, and could not help but watch as the boy fed and fed, and was still not satisfied. Sometimes he took pleasure in it; other times, it made him feel old and weary. 

But this new development was like a jolt of fresh blood in his veins. The boy’s façade was cracking. And with time, either Kurosaki would crumble to pieces, or patch himself up, building more walls until he was stone. And Katsuragi couldn’t quite decide which outcome intrigued him more.

The boy arrived at his door that night, his eyes blazing, but his temper kept in check. “No more, Katsuragi,” he said, as if the ultimatum mattered to him. 

“Or else what, boy? We both know you need me more than I am amused by you,” he threw back. “You’ve never been one for empty threats.”

Kurosaki closed his eyes, accepting the old man’s words as truth. But he opened them again, looking Katsuragi in the eye. “No more innocents.”

He turned away, but not before he heard the old man’s whispered rejoinder. “Ah, but love makes innocents of us all.” He didn’t look back but slammed the door unnecessarily hard.

Katsuragi shook his head. Even starving, the boy wouldn’t grab at the piece of bread offered to him. He just had to make it so difficult for himself.

\---

The next day, the skies were clear and the sun bright overhead. It annoyed Kurosaki, though he knew he was being irrational. He looked at the row of suits and costumes in his apartment, but his mind was blank. Finally, he picked the black shirt and jeans, and the red button-down. It was still a disguise, but he had worn it often enough that it felt like his, and not this investment banker’s or that bumbling office clerk’s. 

Sometimes he felt like he had forgotten—or maybe he had never known—who he was. It was a disquieting thought, and as usual, he shoved it in his compartmentalized brain. 

\---

“Shuji! Wake up!” Someone said directly into his ear. Shuji tried to roll away but his already sore muscles complained. He opened his eyes. Akira was hovering over him. He smiled instinctively. It was just like old times. He couldn’t remember how many nights back in their last year Akira spent at his place. His father had jokingly called him the third son.

And then bits and pieces of yesterday floated up his consciousness like a kind of seaweed. He covered his face, muttering. “Go ‘way.” He knew his face had reddened. Did it really happen? Did Kurosaki really come?

Akira sat beside him. “You know, you can only hide from the world for so long,” he said. And it was such a normal, grown-up thing to say that Shuji pulled away from the pillow and squinted up at him.

“Who are you and what have you done with Akira?”

Akira looked like he wanted to tickle him to death, but only refrained because of his injuries. “I ordered breakfast,” he just said. “Come and wash your face, Shuji-kun.” 

Shuji got up, thoroughly cowed by Akira’s ‘adult mode.’ It wasn’t that bad. Shuji examined his torso in the bathroom after a quick wash. He was all bruised up, sure, but nothing was bleeding or broken. It could have been so much worse.

That thought stayed with him all through breakfast and he was still thinking it when Akira herded him towards the couch.

“Now. Let’s talk about Kurosaki.”

Shuji groaned, covering his face with his hands. “What do you want to know?” His voice was muffled, but Akira seemed to get it anyway.

“Do you like him?” Shuji’s hands fell away and his jaw dropped. _Way to go straight for the kill, Akira,_ he thought.

“No,” he denied, as soon as he had gathered enough of his wits, but Akira just looked at him in that way of his, exuding disappointment without saying a word. “I don’t even know him, really,” he mumbled.

“But the two of you seemed very close.”

Shuji looked at his best friend. “Are you jealous?”

Akira slung an arm around his shoulders. “Should I be? I’m still your best friend, ne?”

“Of course you are,” Shuji reassured him.

“And as your best friend, it’s my duty to help you find happiness,” Akira continued. “If he makes you happy, you should go for him.”

“He reminds me of myself,” Shuji admitted. “I mean, at first I was drawn to him because he looked like you. But really, he’s like me, with his fake face for every occasion.”

“He turns the mirror back. He disturbs your surface,” Akira added, nodding in that irritating way of his.

Shuji laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Akira leaned towards him, and they touched forehead to forehead. “You’re. In. Love.”

Shuji pushed him away. “You’re not seriously approving this, are you? He’s dangerous! I just got beat up, for kami’s sake.” 

Akira shrugged. “Life is dangerous. You’re still hiding from it, Shuji. If you really want something, you have to make it happen.” Akira reached out and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “I never thought you’d find someone who’s as big a liar as you are,” he murmured. “I may have to kick both your asses.”

Shuji scoffed but then Akira made a fox face with his other hand, and Shuji couldn’t help smiling.

\---

Akira hated meeting investors, but he suffered through them with a patience that even his father had come to admire. 

He didn’t actually think he’d be good at this. When he started working at the company, putting on his business face felt like lying. But the work distracted him, and when he had relaxed enough, he was able to get to know the people, too. His father’s genius was not in counting money, but in counting on the right people. 

Investors were the opposite. They were there smiling, eating the (really good) food beautifully displayed on elegant dishes on the table at Katsura’s, and secretly judging him. It was times like these that the tie he wore seemed to choke him. 

But he thought of Shuji—and Nobuta, who was never far from his mind—and managed to smile politely while one old man made an off-color joke and another laughed, showing off the half-chewed food in his mouth.

\--- 

From behind a mirror on one side of the wall, Katsuragi watched one particular table. The woman beside him spoke. “It’s sad to see what he could have become.”

He shrugged. “He made his own choices. He is caught in his own trap.”

“Would you let him go, if he asks?” Curiosity colored her voice but little else. Even now, he was never quite sure how she felt about him and his work. 

He leaned forward, watching Kurosaki's double share a private look with Kusano the elder. It was a perfect mix of exasperation and love, and seeing it, old, forgotten longings rose up within him. “If he can free himself from hate, I will let him go.”


	7. Hopeless Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait. I may have rushed to finish this fic, and it will be even more obvious in the next couple of chapters. I guess I just really, really suck at a straightforward romance. :)

It was easy to tell his father about everything. It was the one thing that had changed since high school. Back then, Akira had left home because he couldn’t stand the silent weight of his father’s expectations. Now, they talked about work, small details and big pictures, and they talked about movies they’ve watched and meals they’ve eaten and Akira talked about Nobuta a lot, while his father patiently listened.

So it was easy to just drop it casually in the conversation, while drinking soy milk like it was beer at the tofu shop that night.

“I know someone who looks exactly like me. Did you play around, ojijii?”

Kusano-san raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. There’s nobody like you in this world.”

Akira stuck out his tongue. It was a very different image from the one he presented at the investors’ meeting that Kusano-san laughed out loud.

But then Akira’s face turned serious. “Just listen, okay? Shuji met somebody...”

\---

“Maybe I can talk some sense into him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. His own father…” Akira shook his head. “He won’t take kindly to a father figure giving him advice.”

“How can we help him then?”

“Shuji,” Akira said decisively. “Shuji thinks so little of himself, but he has a way with people. Let’s wait until Shuji opens up his heart, then we can move in for the kill.”

Kusano-san rubbed at his eyes. “You still watch yakuza movies a lot, do you? What will Nobuta say?”

\---

Shuji didn't even pretend to understand the darkness that existed inside Kurosaki. Even if Akira was right, and Kurosaki did have feelings for him, it didn't follow that the man would give up his revenge for Shuji's sake. He would never ask him to, because it didn't mean anything unless he made that choice himself. Change only happened in the willing heart. 

And if Kurosaki did not change, could Shuji live with the other man's actions? Shuji smiled mirthlessly to himself. Of course he could. Kurosaki may be breaking all sorts of laws, but he was in the moral right. And yet it would be mad to stay with him when he was a criminal under the eye of the police. It would be mad to let himself become a target to be used against Kurosaki. To let himself become a burden...

He felt his thoughts circling round and round without settling on any answer as he took the long route back to his apartment. He took another few days off from work, though it would take a bite out of his meager pay-check, but he needed to get back to pick up some clothes. Even if it felt like the last place he should be right now. He tried to shrug it all off, put on a happy face and move on, a trick he was usually good at. He was failing at it now.

He hadn't really figured anything out by the time he took the last step on the stairs. But then just as he reached for his door, it opened on its own. Kurosaki was on the other side. Shuji opened his mouth, then shut it with an audible clack when the other man dragged him inside, slammed the door shut, and then touched his face with impossibly soft hands. The next thing he knew, he was being kissed ever so gently.

"What's this?" Shuji gasped out as soon as sanity reasserted itself.

Kurosaki, who can spin out one outlandish story after another and make hardened con-men swallow it down, suddenly found himself out of words. But Shuji at least could read between the lines, and divine Kurosaki's fear in his trembling hands. There was a question there, unspoken, but evident in the space between them, in the way Kurosaki kept running his fingers over Shuji's face and in the way Shuji kept his hands against Kurosaki's chest, torn between pushing him away or reeling him closer.

Shuji allowed another kiss, closing his eyes to Kurosaki's dark stare. Somehow, they stumbled towards the bed together, still fully clothed. Kurosaki was mindful of the bruises just turning dark on Shuji's body. They lay on their sides, just kissing and touching, with nothing like urgency, except that Kurosaki's heart was pounding, and Shuji had this expression on his face, like he had finally found some answers. 

Shuji fell asleep between one breath and another, and Kurosaki wanted to watch him, wanted to memorize every line and every shadow. But instead, the warmth of the other man in his arms, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest led him to follow him down into the deep darkness, feeling, for the first time in forever, safe.

\---

Yoshikawa Tsurara paced in front of the door for a good twenty minutes before knocking. Sometimes she hated what Kurosaki had done to her life. Look at her now, nosily interfering in other people's business. When she started studying law, she had been full of zeal and self-righteousness. But now, she questioned everything, especially her own actions. But she had always been too stubborn for her own good. So she knocked on Kiritani Shuji's door then spent another couple of minutes biting her thumb. 

He answered it still yawning, his hair a rat's nest. He was fully clothed, but still Tsurara blushed at the sight of him. 

Shuji tried his best to blink awake. "Was there something you needed, Yoshikawa-san?"

Tsurara took a deep breath before plunging in. "I want to know what's going on between you and Kurosaki." 

Shuji gaped at her for a second before smiling mirthlessly. "You and me both."

Tsurara crossed her arms. "But there is something. I'm not imagining things, am I?"

Shuji shrugged. Whatever he and Kurosaki had, it felt too fragile to be spoken out loud. For now, at least.

It annoyed her, what Tsurara perceived as Shuji's indifference. She took one step forward, forcing Shuji back a little. "You should leave him before it's too late. He'll mess you up."

Shuji scowled down at her. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I met him first, and I know him better than you." Tsurara's words were a challenge.

"No, you don't," Shuji shot back. "You know him just enough to judge him. You want to put him in a tidy box and it annoys you that he won't stay there." He would have said more, but the smile on Tsurara's face stopped him.

"He deserves someone who will fight to keep by his side. He'll be the one pushing you away, you know."

Shuji bit his lip. "I know."

When he closed the door behind him, a cheerful Yoshikawa-san heading off to class, Kurosaki was already awake, sitting up on his bed.

"She's a pest," Kurosaki murmured.

Shuji nodded. "Friends have a tendency to poke at something until it hurts."

"I don't have friends," he scoffed.

"Wrong again, Mr. Robin Hood." Shuji sat beside him on the bed. "You can shut us out as much as you want. It won't change a thing." He looked at the other man, who was staring at his hands. "I don't know what you're thinking right now and that scares the crap out of me. I don't know if I'm any good for you--"

"It's the other way around, isn't it? I'm the one who can ruin your life," Kurosaki interrupted.

"Change it, yes." Shuji let his forehead rest on Kurosaki's shoulder. "Maybe for the better, maybe for the worse. It's too soon to tell which. And anyway that's what love is."

"Is it?" Kurosaki murmured absently.

Shuji smiled. "Isn't it?"

Kurosaki surprised himself by letting out a bark of laughter. "We're hopeless aren't we?"

Shuji leaned back and caught the other man's gaze. "So can we be hopeless together?"

"I think," Kurosaki started, ducking his head and taking a breath. "I think it's too late for that question. I'm already, to you--" And before he could finish his answer, Shuji was in his space again, kissing him.

It was like the first kiss all over again. Messy, and scorching. Kurosaki couldn't think past the sensation, and Shuji's fingers burned wherever he touched him.

\---

It took hours before Shuji could leave. Hours of talking and touching. Hours of feeling like he had swallowed a bomb and it would explode at any given moment. In the meantime his phone buzzed constantly with Akira's messages, until it fell suspiciously silent a little after noon. 

When he finally got back to the hotel, Akira jumped on him, singing some old love song in his ear, poking at the bite marks Kurosaki had left around his neck, and basically driving him crazy. But Shuji kept smiling anyway.

\---

Katsuragi looked like a shark who had scented blood in the water. It took Kurosaki all his willpower not to react to him, or to the picture on the table. 

"He was the one who gave your father's name to certain people," Katsuragi said slowly. "He sells insurance as a front for compiling lists of possible targets."

"Why now?" Kurosaki asked. Only the rough edge to his voice revealed the emotions he was trying to keep in control.

"A reward for a job well done. And he can be induced to talk, with the right leverage." Katsuragi steepled his fingers, waiting.

Kurosaki did not disappoint. He shook his head, turning the picture so it lay face-down besides Katsuragi's jar of pickles. "It’s about time I stop being your dog, Katsuragi." 

The old man looked at him, and smiled, and it was a real one before it transformed into a smirk. "This boy, Shuji. I like him. Take care of him, Kurosaki. It’s rare for people like us to find companions who can see beyond our masks."

"It’s not about him!" Kurosaki denied through gritted teeth, fists clenched.

"No," Katsuragi agreed, "it’s not about him. It’s you, Kurosaki. You’re changing. I didn’t think I’d survive to see the day when love wins over your hatred." 

Kurosaki tried to feel it again, the boiling rage that infused his being every time he met a swindler. But he was just tired and confused. "I’ll be back, old man," he said as he turned to leave. 

Katsuragi turned the picture over again, and murmured. "I really, really hope not."


	8. Stranger than Fiction

Across from Kusano-san sat his son's look-a-like, with Shuji-kun sitting beside him. It was jarring to see him for the first time, but he let himself look closer and could see the differences that weren't apparent at first glance. Kurosaki-san was thinner, harder, older. There was none of Akira's fumbling in his hands as he reached for the teacup. There was none of Akira's petulance and affection in his gaze. Truth be told, Kiusano-san would have been terrified to meet this stranger alone, if not for the fact that Shuji-kun was there, and Kurosaki-san's arm was wrapped possessively around the other boy's hip and Shuji-kun didn't seem to mind, although the boy was looking down at the table and he could see his ears; they were red as a beet.

So he let his guard down, met Kurosaki-san's eyes and pushed forward across the table a sheet of paper. "I have enough connections that I can make this happen, if you would consent to it."

The paper was an application to change the family register. Kurosaki's name was written on it. He blinked down at it. "Why?" He blurted out without thinking, his mind unwillingly calling up an image of a picture, his own family that he had lost.

"It's just a formality," Kusano-san said after an awkward pause. "A way to protect you legally. Akira told me there were some problems in that area."

Shuji had looked up by then, smiling shyly at Kusano-san. "Just think about it," the boy said to Kurosaki.

"Even if you don't sign it, I have to warn you, my son is a persistent fellow. And once he considers you family," he cleared his throat. "You can expect regular visits, especially by this time next year."

"What's happening next year?" Shuji asked.

"I'm moving him to the main branch here in Tokyo," Kusano-san answered.

Shuji’s eyes widened. "Is there a particular reason?"

"Well he always wanted to be here, close to you and to Nobuta-san. He's been dutiful long enough, I think, and it's time for him to learn under my eye."

Shuji smiled and it lit up his face. Kurosaki-san seemed to notice it, because his eyebrows drew closer. Shuji noticed it and laughed out loud. "I'm sorry, Kurosaki. Akira never gives up, so just surrender now."

Kusano-san stood up, and the two mirrored him. "Take your time. It's a big step for anyone to take. Kurosaki-san, we'll be waiting for your answer."

Kurosaki's gaze this time wasn't as hard but it was as piercing. "You shouldn't trust me so easily."

Kusano-san laughed. "I trust my son; he said you were a good person. And I trust Shuji-kun who is by your side. Maybe he can change your heart. He's had practice at producing people." He winked at the younger boy and bowed before leaving.

"Producing people? Is that at your work?" Kurosaki asked after Kusano senior had left.

Shuji shook his head, sighed. "I guess I should tell you about Nobuta. If you ever meet her, well, you can see why I'm comfortable around weirdos."

Kurosaki growled at him and he laughed, grabbing his lapels and pulling him forward for a kiss.

On the table, the sheet of paper lay, and Kurosaki could feel it waiting for him to face it. Maybe. Maybe.

\---

Akira straightened his tie for the fiftieth time. He was glad Shuji had gone out with Kurosaki. If he had been there, he would have teased Akira mercilessly. And it would only be what he deserved, after teasing and grilling his best friend about his new boyfriend all of last night. 

Shuji knew Akira though. And was sensitive enough to make excuses when Nobuta finally mailed them about meeting up. Akira was giddy and terrified in about equal measure. And even thirty minutes early, wasn't ready to meet Nobuta's gaze when she finally arrived.

She looked different. Not fashionable, really. But her red patterned dress with the black sash around the waist fit her. Her hair was too long again, but it was tied away from her face in a haphazard bun. She did not wear make-up, and was a bit pale, but she was smiling, _really_ smiling and Akira smiled back automatically, heart rising to his throat.

He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he grabbed hers when they met and they smiled foolishly at each other, hands clasped, before the waiter interrupted them with a question about their orders.

After he had watched Nobuta eat, he settled back on his seat. "Shuji mailed you back, didn't he?"

"He must be busy," Nobuta answered, her sadness casting a shadow on her face.

"Not busy enough to miss meeting you," Akira said. "He just didn't want to be the one to tell you. But he's in love!"

"He is?" Nobuta asked bemusedly. Shuji had never introduced anyone to her or Akira, even though she knew he dated around sometimes. 

"His name is Kurosaki..." Akira began. 

\---

Shuji was pacing around his room, while Kurosaki watched. 

"Is she that important to you?" He asked.

"Yes," Shuji answered simply. He had tried explaining the strange relationship he had with Akira and Nobuta but his words had failed him. Akira must be telling her about Kurosaki now. He felt jumpy with nerves. Even without the knowledge that Tsurara-san was bringing her malicious friend to meet Akira in an hour. 

"How do you get rid of unwanted stalkers, anyway?" He asked Kurosaki. "I hope that girl Yukari leaves early or I might have to employ some dirty tactics." 

The other man shook his head. "Slow down. You're all over the place. Are you always like this when you're nervous?"

Shuji glared at him. "I usually cope better than this."

"Well, feel free to use any and all weapons to get her to go away," Kurosaki said. "She's a sad person with an empty life." He flinched as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

Shuji stopped pacing and sat down by his side. "Shut up!"

"I didn't say anything," Kurosaki said. 

"But you thought it." Shuji snuggled under his arm. "Whatever you were, Kurosaki, just give yourself a chance to heal, and to change. Okay? And whatever happens, just remember you are not alone."

"No," Kurosaki said thoughtfully. "I guess I'm not."

\---

It was a surreal experience for everyone involved.

They met up at the apartment, because none of them wanted to do it in public. Shuji had set out a couple of tables on the balcony that the residents shared. Tsurara had baked a couple of batches of brownies, and Kurosaki bought chips and salsa. Yukari came early but she just stood around while they prepared everything, her face a dark scowl.

Shuji did his best to ignore her, and was practically bouncing by the time Akira arrived with Nobuta. He smiled shyly at her, pleased when she smiled back, before looking curiously at the two doppelgängers. 

Akira was less restrained. He grabbed Shuji around the neck, swung an arm around a very uncomfortable Kurosaki, squeezed the breath out of them both, then dragged Nobuta to meet a very bewildered Tsurara. 

The rest of the day was a blur. Akira took a lot of pictures on his top-of-the-line phone, mostly selfies with Kurosaki, and pictures of Nobuta with Tsurara. Yukari did slip away early, to Shuji's relief. Kurosaki mostly shadowed him, though he did endure a short, hushed conversation with this girl Nobuta. 

He wasn't sure what to expect from Shuji's stories. She was like a darker version of Yoshikawa Tsurara, not as forward, or as self-righteous, but very, very intense. Before Shuji gravitated back to his side, Nobuta rose up on tiptoes and whispered in his ear. 

"Shuji will teach you how to smile and mean it."

The statement oddly pleased him, as if he had gotten her blessing. And he nodded solemnly at her.

That night, Akira took Nobuta home. They had this unspoken agreement to take the long route. He didn't hold her hand, but they bumped shoulders once in a while. He let the silence calm his own nerves.

"Shuji looks different," Nobuta observed. "More real, somehow."

"Giddy is the word I would have used, but you're right too." Akira beamed at her. "You better tell Mariko. She said she was going to mark on her calendar the day Shuji fell in love."

They chatted a bit about her classes, and how she felt about meeting doubles of the two of them.

"In this instance, truth may be stranger than the movies," Akira mused. 

"What's even stranger is that in my film class we picked themes out of a hat for our final project." Nobuta took a slip of paper from her bag. One word was written on it: Twins.

Akira's eyebrows rose at that.

By the time they reached her dormitory, it was as if they were in high school again. The feeling of familiarity bolstered Akira's courage, so he blurted out the words that have been rumbling in his chest all day. "I want to date you."

Nobuta blushed, looking down in embarrassment. Akira looked at the ground, too, but he continued in a more resolute tone of voice. "I love you, Nobuta. Then and now, and in the years to come. I'm only staying for the rest of the year in Ibaraki. When I come back, I hope you can answer me favorably." He bowed down at her, grabbed her hand to squeeze it one last time, and turned around to head home.

Nobuta had a peculiar look on her face. A little bit of awe, a chunk of affection, and a whole lot of ambivalence. 

\---

“So you and Akira never…” Kurosaki asked one night. They were in bed together. 

Shuji sighed. “He’s my best friend. He and Nobuta pretty much saved me from myself, and I would do anything for him.” He felt Kurosaki stiffen a little a move away, so he stopped him with a hand on his hip. “He’s one of the few people who can see right through me. He makes me feel safe. You on the other hand—“

“What am I?” Kurosaki asked softly, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“You’re like fire in my blood,” Shuji answered. He curled another arm around Kurosaki’s shoulders and kissed him. “I’ve been with other people before, but no one’s ever made me feel like this.”

“But we look the same.”

Shuji looked straight into his eyes. “But you’re not. Trust me, I can tell the difference, okay? I don’t like you because of your face, Kurosaki.”

“What else is there?” Kurosaki had closed his eyes. “I know what I am.”

“Do you?” Shuji asked softly. “Because when I look at you, I see your strength of convictions. I see your cleverness, your compassion, your rage and your fear. Your quest for revenge is part of you, Kurosaki. But it’s not all of you.” He smiled wryly. “I know Tsurara-san has probably given you this speech already—“

Kurosaki covered his mouth with his palm. “Let’s not say her name while we’re in bed, ok?”

Shuji’s brow furrowed as he pulled the other man’s hand away. “She loves you, you know.”

“She's a good person," Kurosaki said neutrally. He wasn't too sure about love, still. It was enough to have Shuji beside him.

“When I met you both, I thought it meant I was supposed to encourage you to be together,” Shuji mused. “Like Akira and Nobuta. Like I should be helping fate.”

“So why didn’t you?” Kurosaki asked.

Shuji looked at him. “Because you kissed me, you baka.”

Kurosaki laughed, and did it again.

THE END.  
(Except for a short epilogue.)


	9. Epilogue

Akira never gave up. It was one of the things Nobuta liked about him. When it came to romance, however, he took stubbornness to a whole new level. Daily love letters arrived in her mail box for the rest of the year. The worst part of it was, the more she got used to the idea, the more she missed him. 

She never wrote back, but she made her next short film a love story. 

Her final project for class, she later extended into a full-length movie called Mirror, Mirror. When she walked down the red carpet for the premiere, Akira was by her side.

\---

Meeting Shuji's family was the most nerve-wracking thing Kurosaki had ever endured, worse than even the near-failed operations that had almost gotten him caught. 

There was Shuji's father, who dressed like a gangster trying to intimidate him but failing hilariously. His mother was back from overseas temporarily, and her easy affection and no-nonsense attitude felt strange to Kurosaki. And then there was Shuji's younger brother, a scrawny and impetuous high schooler with too much gel in his hair who thought it was "Far out!" that he looked exactly like Akira.

He tried his best not to use one of the personas that worked so well in his previous occupation. 

He had wondered sometimes about what he would find behind all of his masks. But he didn't feel empty anymore.

When Shuji's ojiji asked him what he did for a living, Shuji winked at him and he smiled as he answered, "I work in real estate. That's actually how we met..."

\---

Even after she graduated and moved into a better apartment closer to her new work, Tsurara continued to visit Katsuragi, bringing all sorts of home-cooked meals.

"Why are you still coming here?” He growled at her, even though the dishes were always excellent.

"Shut up and eat, old man.” 

Kurosaki's name never came up, but they both thought of him.

\---

For year afterwards, the detective followed the fortunes of the man known as Kusano Akira. The day his so-called father stepped down and he took over the company, Detective Kashima waited for him outside the building.

“So you’re not a kurosagi anymore, are you? You’re just a common swindler like the rest of them.”

The man he thought was Kurosaki smiled at him. “If you say so, sir.”

He never did get over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for helping me see this through. I went away on a two-week vacation with plans to finish this thing and it worked! Now back in Vancouver and back to writing other things...
> 
> I have a personal theme song for this fic called "You'll Be Safe Here," by Filipino band Rivermaya. If you want to listen here's the link of the video with lyrics: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=54U2crrIyPM

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure exactly where Shuji and Akira moved to at the end of the show, so I used Hokkaido from several fanfic. There are some Japanese words used, which I hope readers can get from the context. I only picked them up from watching J-Dramas so if something's spelled wrong or is used wrong, please message me about it.


End file.
